


The Pan and his Wendy-bird

by Nelsbels



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Romance, Braveheart References, Coma, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, Memory Loss, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Pan References, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Fred Weasley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29095998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelsbels/pseuds/Nelsbels
Summary: Fred survived the final battle but was left in a coma for months, held under by a stasis charm to help reduce the swelling in his brain after he was almost crushed to death by a fallen wall. When the time came to remove the charm, as he no longer medically needed it, Fred would not wake.The healers baffled, were unable to do much else but await and see, as only time would tell if he’d wake or not.Hermione wanting to help, researched Muggle medical articles on coma patients and had found that it has been scientifically proven that most coma patients can be aware of their surroundings and speaking to them helped them to regain consciousness faster. And so she decided to read to Fred when she visited him at St Mungos hospital, bringing with her a favourite childhood novel - Peter Pan. A book about the adventures of a free-spirited and mischievous boy who could fly and never grows up, and a young girl he meets – Wendy, an imaginative and mature young lady that had an aptitude for story telling, created by a Scottish novelist and playwright J.M.Barrie.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Katie Bell/George Weasley
Comments: 90
Kudos: 115





	1. Coma

* * *

George had always been the more perceptive of the twins. He had known before Fred recognised it himself, the tentative feelings he was developing over the years for her, held for her till the very end, a brilliant witch, whose contribution in the war had tipped the scales heavily in their favour. If not for her the war would have been long lost. 

She was highly thought of among the elder Weasley brothers. She had earned Bill's respect for being able to break out of Gringotts bank, which equated to breaking out of a high security prison like Azkaban if not more so. She gained Charlie's long-life respect for liberating the Ukrainian Iron-belly Dragon that he had been petitioning to be freed for years. And the twins had always respected her intelligence and cunning, her opinion was one of the very few that had actually mattered to them, especially to his older twin.

So when she came to him with what she had found George did not hesitate to ask her this favour, a life debt both of the twins as well as their whole family would owe her if she succeeded.

* * *

Despite having medical proof, however Muggle affiliated it had been or not, shouldn’t have been met with so much scepticism, as if what she had presented to the healers was of no consequence, thought Hermione furiously. 

It had sparked a startling realisation within her then, a very bitter one at that, that the battle may had been won but the _war_ was still on going. The anti-muggle sentiment and prejudices still lingered within the deeply traditionalist society that was the Wizarding world and the healers were not exempt from it. 

It did not deter her though, it had only encouraged her more, to prove them wrong and to show them that muggle medicine had advanced in many ways and was no longer neither barbaric nor unfounded.

Before she began her 8th year at Hogwarts in September she visited him everyday for two weeks at the end of August, bringing with her a favourite childhood novel - Peter Pan. She had stumbled upon it when going through the attic of her parents house, having forgotten to clear her things from up there too before sending them to Australia over a year ago now. Feeling nostalgic in the empty house she suddenly remembered about her old possessions from her childhood that her parents didn't want to throw away. And so, glassy eyed and trying hard not to cry, she carefully looked through the dusty old attic and found the novel by chance in one of the cardboard boxes. 

It was a book about the adventures of a free-spirited and mischievous young boy who could fly and never grows up, and a young girl he meets – Wendy Darling, an imaginative and mature young lady that had an aptitude for story telling. She chose that book believing that Fred would have enjoyed it, and because he reminded her so much of the mischievous Pan, not only in appearance but also in his traits too. Both shared wild fiery red hair, dusting of freckles across the cheeks and nose, a mischievous smirk and glint in the eye like they knew something you didn’t while always being a step ahead, with a cunning mind and bravery in their hearts.

As a child, whenever rereading that book, she would always compare herself to Wendy, thinking them alike in many ways and wishing desperately for the adventures the young girl experienced, as well as heartfelt longing for siblings.

Hindsight _is_ a wonderful thing, she thought mirthfully, as she smiled and shook her head in the present day. The saying _‘be careful what you wish for’_ had never rang more true to her now than ever before because she got her wish, she got her siblings John and Michael in Harry and Ron, and with them the adventures that never seemed to seize.

As she turned to the first page of the book she paused and was suddenly reminded that this wasn’t actually the first time that she had read to Fred.

_(Flashback)_

In her fifth year, after Christmas, when the students slowly started coming back to the castle after the holidays, she sat in the common room with Crookshanks by her feet warming himself by the fire and a new book on her lap that her father had gifted her that Christmas - ‘Braveheart’. Just before she began to read Fred, George and Lee had arrived through the Gryffindor passage behind the portrait of the fat lady. She exchanged brief greetings with the trio before turning back round but then was suddenly startled by Fred unceremoniously flinging himself on to the couch beside her before nonchalantly enquiring about the book she was reading, probably only because it did not look like a school textbook. George and Lee went upstairs to the dorms to unpack, laughing loudly about something.

“Whatcha got there Granger?” his infamous smirk forever present on his lips.

“Hello to you too Fred.” She rolled her eyes at him with a slight smile, used to his antics by now. It still amused the twins the fact that, besides Harry, she was one of the few people who could tell them apart without much effort, even their close friends struggled at times.

Hermione decided to humour him and so she read the synopsis printed on the back of the book, the tale that was based on a true story of the legendary thirteenth century Scottish hero and warrior named William Wallace and how he had rallied the Scotts against the English monarch, Edward I “Longshanks”, to end his cruel tyranny. A story of his gallant quest for freedom and how the gifted strategist and mighty warrior fought to reclaim their independence.

She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, before she spoke as she made her observation.

“In History, the road to liberty had always been paved in blood and the Scotts had paid a heavy price for their autonomy, as a worthy cause forever comes hand in hand with great sacrifice.” She mumbled quietly towards the end but Fred still heard her. Her words hang heavily in the air between them, reminding them both of the danger that loomed in a not so distant future, especially after the events of the previous year and how the current year was unravelling. 

“Didn’t know you were an avid historian, muggle or otherwise.” Fred tried to ease the tension and she managed to crack a smile to let him know she was ok.

“My father is but I do enjoy muggle history.” she spoke with fondness as she turned to look at the fire crackling within the hearth, trying to bring herself back from the dark thoughts that seemed to linger more often than not at the corners of her consciousness.

“Go on then Granger, read to us a bit.” it sounded more like a dare than a request, as she watched him with amusement stretch his limbs momentarily before Crookshanks jumped onto his lap and then proceeded to scratch at his forest green jumper while the half Kneazel feline made his own demands of being petted to which Fred only chuckled before complying.

“You…want me to read aloud?” she raised a sceptical eyebrow at him, a little surprised.

“Thought that was kinda obvious. How else do you expect me to hear the story?” He raised his eyes from the purring feline in his lap to her, laughter within their hazel depths and a teasing grin on his lips. 

Crookshanks turned to her in that moment too, almost expectantly, before settling himself in a comfortable position. 

She shook her head in a bit of an exasperated amusement, huffing a laugh before conceding, the common room was desolate except for them anyway, the only sound to be had was of the crackling fire.

So she read for him two whole chapters before Harry had finally arrived with Ron in tow. Fred had seemed gripped by the storyline, having not interrupted her once, and was somewhat disappointed when she stopped, much to her surprise.

“Oi Granger, lend me that book once you finished, yeah?” he threw over his shoulder at her with a cheeky smile while walking towards the stairs to go up to the boy's dorms.

“Oh, err sure.”

And she did.

He returned it to her after 3 days, having found her in the same spot in the common room, curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace. He leaned over the back of the sofa towards her as he handed her the book but did not pull away, he seemed thoughtful for a stretched moment like he wanted to say something but was finding it hard to formulate the right words. It was almost as if he ate one of those tongue-tied toffee sweets, something she had never seen him do. Fred Weasley speechless? _Not possible._ She observed him intently, curious to know what he thought of it, if he had actually finished reading it that is.

“What did you think?” she prompted with an encouraging smile, turning her body towards him, tucking her legs underneath her as she moved her elbow to rest over the back of the couch.

“Heavy…but incredible.” Her smile dropped ever so slightly in understanding and couldn’t help voicing her worry, a glimpse of the nightmares that had started to plague her.

“I just hope that this war does not end in the same way.” And she knew straight away in the way he looked at her then that the sentiment was mutual. 

_(End of flashback)_

* * *


	2. Confessions

* * *

Each evening just after dinnertime and until the visiting hours came to an end she would read to him, as she sat by his bedside curled up on a loveseat with a cushioning charm, as hospital furniture was hardly ever comfortable.

She made sure to come in the evenings so that she did not cross paths with the other visitors, not wanting to be disturbed whilst reading to Fred nor wanting to interrupt the anguished family or friends that were loosing hope after 4 months of watching their son, sibling and friend unmoving, in a dream like state while the healers administered a potion like substance to preserve him and his body.

As the days went by and she progressively read further into the book, for the first time in years, the story and its characters that were so dear to her once upon a time had started to recall memories, things she thought she had long forgotten. 

Peter Pan was her first childhood crush and of-course she would've been crushing on a storybook character before a real boy, she thought with both mirth and sadness, as at that time books were her only companions. As a young child she had found it hard to interact with the other kids her age and kids being cruel to anyone that was different teased her relentlessly for it and as a result the earlier part of her childhood had been rather lonely. Perhaps that was the reason why she kept those stories so close to her heart. She may not have had friends but she had her books and her imagination and they had carried her until the fateful day she received a letter inviting her to attend Hogwarts the school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Finding out that she was a witch and that magic flowed within her very veins had made her so happy with childish giddiness and excitement that she could hardly sleep for weeks. It made her feel as if the stories she had read all her life about magic and the Pan could be real.

The nervous flips in her stomach and an almost nauseous feeling she got when she first stepped onto the Hogwarts train had her almost heaving from the nearest window but she had bravely held it in and gave herself a pep talk of sorts. ‘Hermione! You got to pull yourself together! Got to act confident and like father said - fake it till you make it!’. Perhaps her over the top confidence may have rubbed some of her fellow students in the wrong way but she later learnt how to tamper it down, however the eagerness to prove herself, to prove she belonged to this world had her almost drowning in anxiousness. Convincing herself that if she could not find belonging in the muggle world then she had to do everything she could to fit into the wizarding one.

Due to some miracle and perhaps fate playing its hand she had found a friend in Harry and in Ron too albeit more reluctantly. The friendship with the two boys had taken her down a perilous path filled with adventures and mortal dangers, however she could not bring herself to regret any of it because if she had not formed those bonds she would not have got to know the people she had nor come to care for them so strongly, like the Weasley family who had became like her wizarding foster family over the years.

When she first met the mischievous handsome twins as a young and impressionable girl in her first year she could not help but make the connection. Once she was able to differentiate between them it just stuck. Fred who was the older dominant twin resembled the Pan and George being his forever constant companion, was his shadow. The shadow that got detached from the Pan in the story and ended up in the Darling children’s room hiding mischievously. It was how Peter and Wendy came to meet during that fateful night. And in some way it was also how she had met the twins too, well the first time she saw them really. George barged into her and Neville's compartment on the Hogwarts train, startling them out of their wits while he held his index finger to his lips as he hid in the corner before they saw a very angry and a very red looking Percy, one of the prefects, hurriedly walking by their compartment. A moment later Fred jumped in grabbing George and they bolted in the other direction Percy had gone while laughing hysterically. 

She had tried not to make it so obvious when watching them like a star struck girl, which made Hermione laugh in the present time whilst remembering that particular memory.

But as she began to form her very first tentative friendships with Harry and Ron she started to slowly forget about her favourite childhood book and its characters that had once meant so much to her. She had begun to live in the real world instead of constantly having to escape to the imaginary one, to feel like she belonged or had friends that cared for her. 

Hermione no longer needed to escape. 

And after a time Fred was no longer the Pan in her mind but just Fred, the troublemaker, that made her laugh and irritated her in equal measure. 

She hid and pushed her little crush on him to the deepest alcoves of her mind and heart until she forgot about it altogether because he would never look at her as anything more than his brothers’ little friend, a swotty bookworm. She was not his Wendy.

Hermione no longer needed her imaginary world and neither was she a child any longer, so she deducted just like Wendy did in the end - she had to grow up and leave it behind her. Even though it hurt she knew she had little choice, pragmatic even at such a young age, because the events that unraveled around Harry and the inevitable war that loomed ahead of them would not just go away.

* * *

“ 'Wendy' Peter Pan continued in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, 'Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys.' " she read the line with much amusement, the endearing words that made Wendy fall in love with the Pan, and she too once upon a time. 

When finishing a chapter for the night she would speak to him a little before she left, squeezing his hand in solidarity and comfort, perhaps more for herself than for him.

It was starting to feel a little futile but she did not want to give up, she could be patient when she had to be but it was starting to feel a little desperate after having overheard the healers talk about approaching the family about the _next step._ It wasn't hard for her to deduce what that step entailed, the only step being was to finally let him go, to let him cross over, to let him die. She refused to even think of it and she had hoped that his family felt the same that they'd fight the healers against the decision to stop the life support.

Perhaps that was what emboldened her to spill her confession, the possibility that he would die in the coming weeks if the decision was made to withhold his life support. Or perhaps she was feeling nostalgic and just wanted to finally confess her silly feelings for him from years ago, wanting to come clean and hoping he heard her, that the shock from it would miraculously wake him so that they could laugh about it together. 

And in that moment she realised she had missed him, his contagious laugh, so very much, and because the Burrow, the shop and his family were not the same without him. 

“I hope you are enjoying the story so far Fred. It had given me a lot of comfort many years ago as a child. I…eerrr…I have a bit of a confession to make.” She huffed a little laugh before continuing, her smile and slight embarrassment carrying in to her words as her heart rate suddenly picked up. 

“When I first met you, I couldn’t look at you without associating you with the Pan. You were so much alike in looks and traits it really threw me. I had a bit of a crush on you because of it…don’t you dare laugh at me cause I know you want to.” Her smile turned a little rueful as she trailed her eyes from their clasped hands to his peaceful face. He looked like he was simply asleep, which made him look so very boyish, much younger than he actually was but no less handsome. Her heart fluttered at the sudden thought and she scoffed at herself in embarrassed disbelief as she felt her cheeks grow warm. What was _wrong_ with her?

Was it this sudden proximity to him that she hadn't had in years? 

She felt absurd for even thinking it but it wasn't as if her opinion of him or his apparent attractiveness even in this comatose state had ever really changed. She had always thought him handsome but had never let herself dwell on it or be affected by it since she was 12. So what changed now? 

Was it somehow the beginning of 'The Florence Nightingale effect'? Where a caregiver falls in love with their patient?

She knew it wasn't that but couldn't help the way her heart thumped painfully fast within her chest at the mere thought, her face heating. _No,_ absolutely _not_.

And besides, what kind of patient Fred would have been like if he was awake? He'd probably flirt with her shamelessly to the point where she'd want to dock him like she did Malfoy in her third year, she thought with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

She had always liked the twins no matter how exasperatingly frustrating they could be with their dangerous tendencies. She had always admired their ambitiousness, innovative ideas and creative talents. Some of their charm work was extraordinary, as she recalled the daydream charm that Fred gifted her, free of charge, for her compliment in her sixth year. He surprised her further when he offered her the bruise remover paste for her black eye, which she got from the twins punching telescope but that was besides the point. They, but Fred more so, never apologised for their pranks nor really cared for their consequences but then there he was offering her a healing salve he created with a sheepish guilty smile before gently applying it for her around the bruised skin of her eye. She had never really experienced that side of him and it was gone as soon as it had begun, he cleared his throat and made his excuses, she thought she saw his ears turn red before he made his hasty retreat from her but she must have been mistaken. 

“I don’t know why I’m getting so flustered telling you this. Over thinking as usual. Probably because you’d say something incorrigible and…” she trailed off, suddenly distracted by something prickling along the skin of her hand, the hand that was resting on top of his own. Looking down she saw something akin to an electrical current that appeared and disappeared along his left forearm, subtle and could have been easily missed if not observed within close proximity. Without thinking she squeezed his hand and tried to say his name before she felt the pull forward just behind her bellybutton, almost like she was apparating.

The feeling of weightlessness had only lasted a moment before she was thrown into marshlands that looked very familiar to her. She looked around a little disoriented not sure what happened before it clicked, having spent an awfully long time around them during the summer holidays, the very same ones around the Burrow.

She then acutely noticed that it was night-time and saw the moon hanging high in the cloudless sky, but her surroundings did not quite feel like reality.

A curious and startling thought had then crossed her mind. Had she been pulled into Fred’s subconscious? She started to feel the panic begin to rise, her breathing picking up. 

Hermione felt the presence behind her before she heard his footsteps, and as she sharply turned she was frozen in place from shock at what she saw, her breath caught painfully in her throat, a sudden lump forming that she couldn't swallow down from welling emotions. 

Fred.

There he stood, just the same, just as whole as the day she last saw him before the battle began.

“Who are you?”

* * *


	3. Dark Waters

* * *

Legilimency cannot be performed on someone that is unconscious as it runs a very high risk of the witch or wizard being trapped within the mind of the recipient. The body cannot survive without the mind and as a result can cause instantaneous death once the connection is severed by distance. It was the primary reason why the healers could not thoroughly explore the causes and treatments for induced comas nor try to wake the patients in that manner, and as such head remedial was still an underdeveloped area within the wizarding medicine.

She was found unconscious inside the private room, slumped on the chair while her hand still held the patients’, by an apprentice healer who had come to inform her that the visiting hours were over.

Unable to wake her and having checked her pulse the healer run out in a panic to get his superior.

“Do not move her body too far as severing of the connection by distance will kill her!” the head healer shouted sternly at his trainees.

Instead of moving her to another bed and it being placed next to the patients’, they cast an extending charmed on his bed and levitated her gently to his side.

“Contact the family immediately.”

* * *

“Who are you?” his voice was even but devoid of any emotion or recognition, his body in a neutral stance.

Moments prior, within the privacy of her mind, she was beginning to think that she'd never hear it again, hear him speak again but there he was, standing only a handful of feet away. She stared at him in frozen disbelief for a prolonged moment, holding back the swell of emotions twisting painfully in her chest. She swallowed thickly and tried blinking back the sudden tears threatening to spill. Shaking herself mentally she sought the right words to say.

“It’s _me_ Fred...it’s Hermione...don’t you remember?” She spoke tentatively, in a controlled manner so that her voice didn't break, moving a little closer to him cautiously, just a couple of feet, like approaching an injured animal.

He looked at her detachedly at first, as he seemed to process her presence, her words. He dipped his chin slightly, his eyes narrowed and caught the moonlight reflecting off of the water of the vast marshlands around them, extending as far as the eye could see but with the Burrow nowhere in sight. Had he been lost all this time, treading through murky waters looking for his childhood home? The mere thought made her eyes burn and chest feel tight.

But there was something else, something that did not feel right to her, _he_ didn’t seem right to her, something was very wrong. She could not understand the aura that surrounded him, almost like a dark mist, she felt it without seeing it. Hermione had never thought that a day would come that she would ever feel fear towards the man standing in front of her. The conflicting emotions fighting for dominance inside her made her take a shuddering breath. 

She was almost in knee-deep water, dark as night, reflecting the sky eerily. It had reminded her of a very distinctive potion, the ‘Draught of Living Death’. She could feel the water but not its coolness, normally it should have been freezing. Neither was there any wind, which was forever present in the lands around the Burrow. This place was desolate of it, completely still. But even still waters run deep. It was one of the reasons she had come to realise that she was not actually there but else where, wherever ‘else where’ was meant to be.

The Draught of Living Death was an extremely powerful sleeping draught, sending the drinker into a deathlike slumber. Its effects were similar to suspended animation. This particular draught was also a very advanced potion, taught to sixth year N.E.W.T. students but very few could actually successfully make it. It was the _only_ potion she had failed to brew. 

But what did it mean? Had the water simply meant to reflect Fred’s state of being or was there a deeper meaning behind it?

A muggle fairytale - Sleeping Beauty, was based on a story involving the said draught. Hermione had once read a passage in an advanced potion’s book under the Draught of Living Death’s description that a wizard prince had once used the Wiggenweld potion as an antidote to awaken a princess who had been given the Draught of Living Death by the hag Leticia Somnolens. The prince first put some of the Wiggenweld Potion on his lips and then kissed the princess, causing her to awaken from her death-like slumber.

Her mind was running a mile a minute, trying to search her memories in a methodical way she was so used to when problem solving before she was snapped out of her almost manic reverie when he spoke again, this person who she did not know nor recognise.

“You are the voice.”

“V-voice?” she repeated the word in confusion.

“That speaks.” he spoke slowly, hesitantly, almost as if he was unsure. 

“Have you been able to hear me Fred? Have you been hearing the story I’ve been reading you? Peter Pan?”

“So it is _you_.”

“Yes. It’s me Hermione, your friend from school, remember?” she walked just a little closer.

“Am I…the Pan?” he seemed so perplexed in that moment, as if he was in a drugged state. 

“What?” bewildered and trying not to panic Hermione tried to keep a cool head on her shoulders, thinking logically. He was clearly confused and she calmly needed to explain to him the situation and what had happened to him without overwhelming him. Easier said than done in such circumstances but she needed to try.

“No Fred, your name is Fredrick Gideon Weasley. And yes...you have always reminded me of him...the Pan from the book, it was one of the ways I initially was able to tell you apart from your twin George...Remember George?” She felt like she was so out of her depth and how to help him. Had he truly forgotten everything? The extensive head injuries he had sustained would certainly explain his current state but she had hoped...

His eyes became blank and his silence spoke intuitively to Hermione, so she moved instinctively towards him, stepping forward to come onto the dry land in front of him, leaving only a foot between them. He was barefoot and wore simple muggle clothing - a grey henley shirt and dark jeans.

“Fred, it’s ok...I’m here to help.” She tentatively reached out for his hand, trying to comfort him, to gain his trust.

She watched him intently as he looked down, observing their linked hands and something akin to recognition crossed his features fleetingly, his dark aura abating. 

“You are warm.” The statement was so random and out of the blue that she couldn’t help chuckling at it for a moment before she looked at him beseechingly.

“Fred, I need you to trust me...What I’m about to tell you might be difficult to take…You have been hurt…" she watched his face closely, looking for any signs of alarm before continuing "badly…and you are currently in a coma.” He looked at her in confusion but he seemed more receptive than he was initially.

“And…I’m going to help you to wake up. Ok?”

He gave her a slow nod but she wasn't sure if he truly understood her. 

* * *

He appeared to like her proximity or the body heat she emitted. When she gave him a shy inquisitive look, as he sat close to her with their sides touching from shoulders to thighs, he merely said 'cold' and her heart lurched forwards painfully within her chest for him, resolved to stay close and keep holding his hand, which seemed to have pleased him, she saw a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. 

She sat beside him on the dry land, shoulder to shoulder, for what felt like hours, speaking or mostly just her asking questions, trying to found out how long he'd been lost in the marshlands. He looked a little out of it and seemed to have trouble stringing thoughts together coherently. She wondered if it was from his injuries or the substance the healers were giving him to sustain his body. Was it clouding his mind as a consequence? When they get out she'd request to see the exact ingredients of the potion they have been dosing him with for analysis. 

She tried to think of ways they could escape this place before an idea came to her. It sounded a little far-fetched but any attempt was good as any at this point. The basis of it being that he needed to reconnect his mind to his outer body.

There was absolutely no way she’d stay stuck in this limbo and neither would she leave him like this, all alone. She was getting them out one-way or another. 

“Fred, I need you to try and concentrate ok.” She squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“I need you to think deeply of your external senses, your sense of hearing, smell and touch. Close your eyes.” but he only looked at her sceptically.

"Trust me." she moved to sit in front of him, her hands came up to squeezing his biceps, coaxing him and eventually he complied.

“Now think about what you can hear outside of this place? Can you feel anything. Can you smell anything?” he was silent for a long moment before he spoke.

“I can hear many people…speaking simultaneously..." His face scrunched up in concentration and slight annoyance before relaxing once more. There was a stretch of silence and then he breathed in deeply "...I can smell...orange blossom.” that startled her a little from surprise and pleasure, it was her perfume, her body must still be in close proximity to him.

“That’s it! That’s it Fred! Now I need you really focus...What are the voices saying? Imagine bringing yourself closer to where the voices are, try walking towards them.” And he did as she instructed, pulling her up to a standing position before they walked in the direction he took them, his hand holding her own firmly. 

“You remind me of her…” he spoke carefully, his voice deep and more sure of himself, a slight upwards curve on the corner of his lips as he turned to look at her, the first smile she saw him make in too long and it made her heart stutter unexpectantly. She felt it then in that moment - the tell tell sign of the wind appearing, at first a gentle breeze that caressed your cheeks and pulled at your locks, barely there but present.

“Who?” she asked him curiously, feeling the heat bloom on her cheeks the longer his hazel eyes stared into hers enigmatically. 

“Wendy.” His words surprised her, he said it with an unreadable look on his face that she could not quite decipher and before she could speak there was a familiar pull just behind her bellybutton and she was flung forward, everything going dark.

* * *

She woke with a sharp gasp, her upper body almost leaping forward in shock at what she just experienced, much like breaking the surface of water after being submerged for too long and gasping for your first breath as your lungs burned.

“Just what were you _thinking_ doing Legilimency on a coma patient?!” the head healer, mr Johnson, rounded on her. It took her a moment to regain her bearings before his accusation registered within her mind and she was able to lash out in the same manner and tone he was using on her.

“ _What_?...Do I look suicidal to you?!” affronted, she bit out while ignoring the other healers in the private room staring at her in astonishment.

“I don’t _know,_ you tell _me_ miss Granger!” the almost shouting match with the healer was starting to give her a headache but she’d be damned if she let him have the last word!

“I was only speaking to him when I got pulled into his mind!”

Before the head healer could retort he paused, freezing in place as he noticed slight movement of the patient lying beside her, which didn’t go unnoticed by the party. Everyone in the room watched in fascination and bated breath the fluttering of Fred’s eyes and him waking after four long months in a comatose state.

Hermione being still on the bed beside him leaned over him in nervous excitement, her slightly shaking hand came up to brush his cheek as she turned his face gently towards her.

“Fred, Fred are you alright?” she spoke softly, trying not to startle him.

“Wendy?” his voice sounded groggy from disuse and if she wasn’t half lying down she would have fallen over from shock but then she noticed the slow appearance of his signature smug grin on his lips and couldn’t help the bubbling of laughter that escaped. Her sinuses started burning from the impending tears of relief and joy as she playfully slapped his chest in retaliation of him trying to pull a fast one on her.

Then he did something that surprised her even more.

He leaned forwards and kissed her.

* * *


	4. Lost

* * *

He did not know how much time had passed, if the time moved at all or if he was suspended in some moment in time somewhere. Neither did he know how long he spent aimlessly walking around these marchlands that seemed familiar and not at the same time. He was searching for something but couldn’t remember what, the memory forever out of reach. He couldn’t remember anything, not his name, not where he came from nor why he was where he was.

After a time it stopped bothering him as much as it used to at the beginning, which should have alarmed him but he couldn’t bring himself to care, although the feeling of anxiousness had somewhat remained.

At times he could hear muffled voices or bits of conversation. He had no idea where they were coming from nor who they were. Sometimes it was too much, too much chaos, just too much.

Until he started hearing her voice. Just her voice, just her wraithlike voice and nothing else.

Calm and soothing. Then a story. She was telling him a story. But she’d stop and then resume again after awhile. It seemed like a regular occurrence and so he tried to tell time by her coming and going. Was it a day or only a few hours? It was hard to string coherent thought together but every day it became slightly easier.

He tried to follow the story, concentrating hard despite the difficulty and the barriers his hazy mind posed. He could almost see it in his minds eye as the story unfolded, of this Pan and his Wendy, their adventures together. He felt almost like a kinship towards the mischievous Pan that he couldn’t explain. Could they somehow have been one and the same?

He often wondered who she was, what she looked like. His mind would attempt to conjure something but he could never see her face clearly. The description of Wendy from the story painted a young girl wearing a pale blue nightgown with light chocolate curls cascading down her back, but then his mind would also add a little detail that wasn’t there in the book - her curls would reflect gold in the sun light. 

The sun…he remembered, a vision of vast golden marshes flashed in his mind before it disappeared just as quickly, unable to hold onto it. He missed the sun and its warmth. He was tired of the constant darkness he lived in.

The more he listened to her the more his thoughts seem to flow, the more coherent they became. Sometimes he’d feel this pressure on his left hand and feel the warmth being transferred but could not tell its origin or purpose. It comforted him though, soothing his anxious and forever searching mind.

He wanted to reach out to the voice, to her.

He tried focusing on the warmth, wanting to pull it towards him, to be engulfed in it, to grasp it and yank it to him in an almost aggressive selfishness.

He thought he heard the thunder clap violently.

And then she appeared before him.

A beautiful girl in a pale blue summer dress with long chocolate curls cascading over her right shoulder and back, with flawless fair skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight making her seem not of this world, and he thought he’d never seen anything so lovely.

Even in clouded darkness the mind can still recognise beauty. In that moment, somewhere deep within his mangled mind, he made an association between her and the young girl the Pan fell in love with.

* * *

When he woke he did not have any inhibitors that he may have had previously, built up by his mind, before the events that caused him to end up where he was, which he did not realise in that moment in time due to the memories he had lost.

His body remembered even though his mind did not, like muscle memory, so when he woke and saw her, inhaling her intoxicating scent of orange blossom that seemed so familiar and yet somehow so out of reach he acted without consequence. An impulse he couldn’t suppress but neither did he want to in that moment as she leaned over him, her warm hand brushing his cheek gently.

She was so much more beautiful in the bright light no matter how harsh it seemed to his eyes but her head had blocked most of it out, which created a halo above her. Her aura was like a warm light cast by the evening sun. She had freckles dusting her cheeks and nose, her eyes were a bronze amber that shown with kindness and warmth, and a mixture of deep and overpowering longing hit him full force. He thought he recognised it so he greeted her like a long lost lover, finally reunited, without holding back he leaned forward and captured her petal soft lips, and no kiss had ever seemed sweeter than the one he took in that moment. 

In his mind he couldn’t let go the thought of her, the association he made, finally being able to put a name to a face. She was his Wendy.

* * *

When his lips touched her own in a soft caress something coiled and burst inside her chest like explosive gunpowder. She felt her lips twitch, almost in want to reciprocate before he pulled away. Too stunned, all she could do was stare in bewilderment as her hand came up to touch her parted glistering lips. Her cheeks must have been burning red hot. She was unable to look at anyone in the room.

Then came the commotion from outside the room bringing her back to the present. The stunned healers that witnessed the private moment snapped into motion to try and control all the visitors trying to barge in at the same time. 

  
  
While the others were holding them off the chief healer stepped forward. She saw Fred's reaction, how it made him flinch, he must have only now realised that there were so many strangers within the room. 

  
  
Despite how stunned she felt she tried to speak to him soothingly, trying not to stutter from the earlier shock.

  
  
“The healer just needs to check that everything is ok, alright Fred?” He seem to trust her so he gave a terse nod.

Without touching him the healer made an incantation, which scanned him and brought up a summery of his stats. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked everything over and asked a collective of questions that only seemed to agitate Fred more and more.

  
  
“What’s the last thing you remember mr Weasley?” Fred assumed the healer was referring to him as the name did not mean anything to him.

  
  
“I don’t know.”

  
  
“Can you tell me your name?”

  
  
“Fred...” he answered as if unsure.

  
  
“Just Fred?”

  
  
“I don’t know.”

  
  
The further the questioning progressed the more antsy Fred became, to the point where he was ready to lash out at the healer but she noticed his growing agitation and put a stop to the questioning for now at least. 

  
  
“Can we have a moment alone...please.” 

  
  
“Very well.” Surprisingly the healer conceded, perhaps realising that any further questioning at this point would be futile and only contra-productive. He walked out of the room, she assumed to give the news to the anxious family waiting outside the door.

  
  
Once alone in the room she sat back down next to him, with an almost heavy thud as her whole body sagged from mental and physical exhaustion. 

She rubbed her temples to try to relieve some pressure before she turned to him timidly. They stared at each other for a while as if seeing each other for the first time. The tension seemed to grow and Hermione was first to break the silence.

She tried again to explain to him that he’s been badly hurt and that he had lost his memories, that his family that cared for him very much were just outside the door and eager to see him. He was quiet throughout her speech.

  
  
“I…I mean…we…will help you to try to regain them, ok?...It’ll be ok...” the last bit was said probably more to reassure herself than him.

“Are you hungry? You must be hungry. I’ll bring some food.” She hastily stood from the bed but was stopped by his hand grabbing onto her own. She turned to look at him in surprise, her heart fluttering.

  
  
“Don’t leave.” he was looking away from her, his head slightly bowed but she saw the tension in his jaw that showed his current state of emotions, his anxiousness. She felt her chest tighten in sympathy and she tried to smile to reassure him, that she wouldn’t leave him alone.

  
  
“I won’t go very far, I’ll be just outside of this door. I promise.” She squeezed his hand in emphasis and he let go of her albeit reluctantly, she saw the tension in his shoulders abating as they drooped slightly before she slowly walked out of the door.

* * *

Once outside she was confronted by almost the whole Weasley family and their anxious questions thrown at her from all sides, overwhelming her. 

  
  
“Please, one at a time.” pleaded Hermione uneasily.

  
  
“How is he?” Molly cried, distressed for being kept from her child.

  
  
“He is stable but he doesn’t remember anyone…And so we will have to reintroduce everyone...slowly...one by one.” Her words stunned the group into silence, Molly only cried harder as Arthur held her tighter.

“At least he is alive and awake. The rest we will deal with. He will remember…eventually…won’t he?” Breathed Ginny, holding onto Harry like a lifeline, afraid of the answer to her own question.

“There is no guarantee…some coma patients are never the same after they wake…and there is a chance that he will never regain his memories.” Hermione tried to explain as calmly as she could, a far cry from the storm that raged inside her, and the fears she herself felt slowly start overwhelming her. 

  
  
“How come he remembers you?” One of the junior healers finally piped in, unable to tamper down her curiosity. Everyone turned to look at her in stunned silence.

  
  
“He doesn’t remember _me_ as Hermione…He remembers me as the voice that spoke to him.” She spoke hesitantly almost afraid of their reaction, rubbing her temples in building agitation. 

“He heard you?” George murmured in disbelief but with hope in his voice. 

  
  
“Yes.”

  
  
“Astonishing.” Said Bill, standing closely to George. 

  
  
“But you weren’t the only one that spoke to him.” Pressed on another junior healer, fascinated and wanting to understand the phenomenon. The Weasleys initially didn’t care how it happened as long as Fred was awake but now she saw that the curiosity was starting to bleed through their overwrought minds.

  
  
“Perhaps it was because there was no background noise? I have no idea...but he remembers the story I read to him…He seemed to associate me with one of the characters from the book…And…somehow he managed to pull me into his subconscious.”

  
  
“But how did he pull you into his subconscious? How is this possible?” the Auror trainee in Harry probed, curious and equally worried. 

  
  
She explained to them what she saw just before she got pulled in, the electrical current she felt before being apparated forcefully against her will.

* * *

  
  
The only explanation they could come up with at a later date was that his magic reacted to hers in familiarity, as if remembering who she was, reached out to her in an unconscious state and through touch, direct contact, he was able to pull her in. The connection would remain as long as she maintained contact or very close proximity however it was still a very dangerous incident and they were incredibly lucky to have come out unscathed. 

The electrical like current that she saw was his magic manifesting itself outside of his body, trying to reach out to her.

The healers wanted to record it as a case study and with a heavy sigh she complied, giving her consent.

* * *

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked it? Hated it? Let me know ;-)
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments <3


	5. Requests and Meetings

* * *

In the coming weeks after Fred’s awakening had been somewhat trying for Hermione. She was unable to distance herself from him, initially wanting to take herself out of the equation to sort out her new and very confusing feelings for him, to tamper them down as he was clearly confused and she didn’t want to complicate the situation any further but he _wouldn’t_ let her.

He asked her to visit him, to continue reading the book to him. She said she could leave the book for him to read but he refused, wanting to hear her read to him. It seemed like a feeble excuse at first but she soon realised that the request had carried hidden meaning.

“I…your voice its…I don’t remember anything but...you are the only thing that makes sense to me right now… so please…don’t leave.” ‘me’ was left unsaid but the message was conveyed much the same, in his eyes and the way he looked at her when he spoke those words.

Before his injury, he was never a sort of person to ask another for anything, he’d always been self-reliant, or taken for his own and never asking. However, seeing this vulnerable side of him, which she knew was difficult for him to show made any form of defensive argument forming deflate within her mind.

She couldn’t say no to him when he tried to tell her in his own words that he needed her whilst her treacherous heart thundered in her chest like a bird trying to get out, not truly wanting to leave either. Subconsciously she wanted to be needed again, having been relied on all these years and then all of a sudden the battle was finally over and she was no longer needed. She felt lost, her sense of purpose was lost and with that brought crushing loneliness she tried to hide. It was the time to rejoice, to grieve and recuperate and everyone had enough on their plate, she didn’t want to add to it with her silly nonsense.

Perhaps she needed him as much as he needed her after all, maybe more.

And so she kept coming back each evening while he remained in St Mungos until the healers deemed him healthy enough to be discharged.

The book she read to him was an altered version of the original that J.M.Berrie wrote in an attempt to make it more child friendly despite having kept some of the dark themes of the original manuscript, titled Peter Pan and Wendy. It wasn’t how Disney depicted the story, in all light humour and child wonder with a clear line between good and bad. This version she held in her hand painted the Pan not always in the light but also having a dark side to him, at times morally ambiguous and cruel. J.M.Berrie described children as joyous, innocent and heartless. The battles between the pirates and the lost boys being duels to the death. It made her think of the battle of Hogwarts.

Most of them were nothing more than children, children fighting against and killing Death Eaters and being killed by them. Just like in the novel. The lost boys killed all of Hooks crew before the Pan pushed the captain Hook off the ship and into the hungry crocodiles awaiting jaws. There was no mercy. 

  
  
Neither did Peter truly want to let Wendy go, that was why he flew ahead of the ship to put up bars on the window of their bedroom so that they thought their mother no longer waited for them, did not love them or miss them.

“ ‘She's awfully fond of Wendy,' he said to himself. He was angry with her now for not seeing why she could not have Wendy. The reason was so simple: 'I'm fond of her too. We can't both have her, lady.’ ” 

But once the Pan saw the anguished mother crying and truly missing them did he change his mind, letting the Darling children go home.

* * *

The one thing that remained, what he had not forgotten like muscle memory was his feelings towards some people. One of the strongest was towards her, he wanted to be closer to her. He couldn’t fathom as to how they weren’t lovers in the past, before his incident, because the way he felt for her was deep but her skittish behaviour after the kiss made it clear they weren’t as close as he initially thought and hoped.

Perhaps something stood between them previously, something that he could not remember at the present time, maybe it was the reason he held himself back even though he couldn’t imagine doing so now as things currently stood? However, it did not matter to him any longer, he will erase this distance between them and soon but he had to tread slowly as not to scare her off.

She promised that she’d help him along his journey of recovering his memories that still eluded him and so he will use it as a tether to keep her near, to keep her close, until he persuaded her to stay of her own volition, always, to be with him.

He would not make the same mistake he did in the past, just like the Pan who realised too late what Wendy meant to him. A couple of the passages from the book came to mind and he flipped through the pages of the book she left with him, to re-read them again in private.

“All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again.”

He would not make the same mistake Pan made when he let his Wendy go.

“Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.” 

* * *

The reintroduction of his alleged family was a little tense.

He did not remember them but something within him innately brought forward certain feelings towards each person despite not knowing them, mostly fondness and annoyance.

He was a little aloof and perhaps reserved at the beginning, listening to stories about himself in detached interest before they started to affect him. His mother…Molly…brought picture books upon picture books retelling him almost his whole history. It was strange to be told about what he was like or what he had done without the knowledge nor memory of the events.

One of his older brothers, Percy, broke down crying in front of him saying it was all his fault, that if not for him he wouldn’t have been hurt and lost his memory. He did not know what to do but pat him on his back saying it was water under the bridge.

“Don’t be a prat anymore.” He didn’t know where that came from but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it to Percy, who then cried harder while vehemently agreeing.

The mentions of the war, however scarce they were, had brought forward strong emotions too.

At night he started dreaming again but the dreams felt more like lost memories than dreams. Flashes of what was, incoherent which only left him more confused.

A sense of self started coming back to him but the world did not hold the same joy it once did. He saw it in his apparent twin too, who was probably the biggest shock. _He had a twin!_ His twin, who had been scarred by this war, having lost an ear and the hearing in it during one of their missions and then almost loosing his closest person in this world. He felt bad for having worried him but he wanted to know him, wanted to get to know him all over again.

His eldest brothers Bill and Charlie were exactly the type of people he felt he’d always look up to. A curse breaker and a Dragon tamer. They were an impressive duo and he had enjoyed getting to know them again.

His father…was a peculiar man but a very kind and loyal one, albeit very amusing too. He tried to focus on the now, which Fred appreciated, telling him of his latest muggle object he was trying to fix, a sort of tinkering project of his. 

Next was his only sister, the youngest of the brood, a fire cracker she was, much like their father she tried to focus on the present, telling him her plans and hopes to become a professional Quidditch player. She brought him the latest Quidditch magazines and books about the sport that she thought would interest him or at least entertain him while he was stuck in St Mungos. He appreciated it.

The last one of the lot to meet was his youngest brother, Ron. He was a little awkward and a bit unsure of himself, he could see how he was second guessing himself about what to say and what not to. Fred found it highly amusing to watch him squirm but he knew that Ron was genuinely happy to see him alive and awake.

But there was something else that he couldn’t quite understand, a weird but predominant sense of irritation and jealousy? Why would he ever feel jealous of his brother? Let alone someone like _him_? It baffled him but he decided to observe him in the meanwhile rather than asking outright, he somehow doubted that the boy knew himself. So for now he will remain silent and just watch, perhaps this way it will be easier to discover the origins of the mixture of confusing emotions surrounding their affiliation.

What he didn’t expect was that the answer to his question would come sooner than he thought.

* * *


	6. Growing Closer

* * *

Their routine carried on for another two weeks as Fred was kept in the hospital for further investigations for his amnesia and until her studies began at Hogwarts towards the end of September. Hermione would come in the evenings and she would read to him and once she had finished they would simply talk about anything that came to mind, at first nothing of consequence but then he slowly started opening up to her and eventually she reciprocated. 

His magical abilities and knowledge were tested, his brain scanned repeatedly and a Legilimens healer scoured through his mind tirelessly. They told him that there were multiple blocks in his mind but that it could be a good thing, that the memories were not erased but withheld. Over time once the blocks were lifted he should remember his past but they did not say how to remove the blocks, which frustrated him endlessly. He would tell her all this, about his family too and she would listen quietly without interrupting him, knowing he needed to get things off his chest, and at the end she would try to give him advice and support in any way she could.

He would tease her at times and she thought she was getting a glimpse of an old friend that was still in there somewhere. The first boy she fell in love with once upon a time, her heart would murmur treacherously, making her feel flustered, which only seemed to amuse him. 

“You call yourself a medi-witch? Your bedside manner is appalling. I’m filing a formal complaint.” He spoke in mock indignation at her refusal to hand feed him.

She grabbed one of his pillows and swiped at him in retaliation, a playfulness she didn’t think she was capable of but was rediscovering with him.

He ducked and then proceeded to steal the pillow from her.

The building of closeness was so gradual that she almost didn’t notice how much closer they were becoming by the end of the fortnight.

And the thought no longer seemed as scary as it once did.

Harry had noticed the change in her and one afternoon when they met for lunch she confessed the whole ordeal fairly quickly, needing someone to confide in. He only smiled and told her she deserved to be happy and if she was happy with Fred then she shouldn’t hold back.

* * *

The weight he felt on his shoulders from the expectations and hopefulness from his family to remember had always seemed lighter whenever he was in her company. She did not expect anything from him and neither did she push him when he wasn’t ready.

How he wanted to just grab her and hold her, if only she’d let him.

And by the end of the second week he did just that, using it as an excuse to immobilise her when they started a childish play fight.

He had never felt so content as he did in that moment, holding her close to him, his head resting on top of her own and her cheek against his chest.

* * *

Fred took to calling her 'Wendy-bird' much to her chagrin and amusement. It was the same nickname the Pan gave Wendy.

The Sunday after his discharge from St Mungos everyone was invited to the Burrow by the Weasley matriarch for a Sunday roast, wanting to see her family whole again, including her and Harry, for some normalcy to return once more.

Fred had sat next to her during the meal, some didn’t think much of it but others tried to repress obvious smiles, like Harry and Ginny, George too. Harry must have spilled the beans to Ginny as he was inept in keeping anything from her, she could read him like an open book. She wasn’t sure how George knew but Fred was his twin after all so perhaps it was some kind of twins 6th sense? Or perhaps Ginny told him. Who knew at this point?

She tried to repress her raging blush without much success. The way Fred would casually rest his arm over the back of her chair didn’t help her already burning cheeks any, it almost seemed like he was stacking a claim, which both immensely pleased her and made her incredibly nervous about the reaction of the whole family. Molly looked between them suspiciously while she tried to smile innocently at the woman and blend into the chair she sat in.

Ron however was in a bit of a mood. Harry shared a worried look with her when she noticed, which wasn’t hard to do when he was acting the way he was, a little quieter and irritated but nothing they hadn’t dealt with before.

After dinner she stepped out of the house to take a breath without so many people around her, to compose herself as she walked around the Burrow a bit, while Fred was engaged in conversation with his older brothers Bill and Charlie.

She didn’t get very far when she heard footsteps behind her.

“You are getting a little cosy…with Fred.” Forever tactless when it came to talking to women without offending them Ron came into view when she turned to face the voice behind her. An off-handed comment he thought he’d made but she could hear the unease and accusation in them, wanting an explanation for her sudden closeness to his brother.

Back at school the thing with Ron was slow building, what it was or why she still wasn’t quite sure. Was it because he was her first friend and in close proximity to her so she built it up in her head? Was it a phase where she found his dorky and sweet side of him cute? But whatever it was came to an abrupt end after the Yule ball in her fourth year.

After that disastrous and public fight with Ron, when she ended up on one of the castle steps crying, an upper classmate from Beauxbatons made an almost passing comment at her that had felt as if ice cold water had been poured over her.

“If he treats you like that now chérie, what makes you think anything will change in the future?”

She must've been quite a spectacle during and after the fight with Ron that it had caught the attention of people around them. She was so embarrassed.

And just like that she was unable to sleep all night thinking of those words over and over and over again, obsessively. 

She almost wanted to seek out the older witch again and make her explain herself, make it clearer to her because she was so confused. And she got her wish when she bumped into her in the library while searching for an advance Transfiguration book.

  
  
“What did you mean...when you said...” she tried to act confident and nonchalant but the senior girl saw right through her, smiling in amusement, which irritated Hermione but she couldn’t bring herself to back out now. 

  
  
“Boys rarely change, not like the way girls do, especially boys like _him_. If he can direct his insecurity and jealousy towards his close friends so easily it will only be worse for someone that is more.” She paused for emphasis, raising her eyebrow before continuing.

  
  
“Don’t make that mistake chérie, I’ve been there and I can say without a doubt it’s _not worth it_.” The older witch walked away then, back to her study group within the library.

The encounter gave her a lot to think about and think she did.

Ron _wasn’t_ a bad guy. She did think he was smart when he tried. He could be sweet and perhaps somewhat considerate on a rare occasion but their differences in character were irrevocably incompatible, it would never work long term. And one of the biggest reasons for it being was his deep and ingrained insecurity and jealousy, where she was confident and ambitious. Other people’s opinions just did not matter to her as much as it did to him because she knew her _worth_.

Thinking in the present day, realising what it was when she did not quite grasp it back then was that those qualities could never mix in a healthy relationship and where “opposites attract” aspect did not apply in any shape or form. If you had no similarities in the basic qualities of your personalities then there was no foundation that could hold whatever they may have attempted to build together, because in the end it would always crumble or it would constantly be an uphill struggle. She did not want to be stuck in couple’s counselling for half her life.

But she shared those basic qualities with Fred. He was confident, ambitious and innovative too, just like her. They both could think on their feet. They also shared mischievous hearts too on some level. She wasn’t a complete 'goody goody two shoes', it wasn’t quite possible while being friends with one _Harry Potter_ because the mischief and the adventures came along with him hand in hand. 

She didn’t always follow rules, "Perhaps only when it suited her" as Fred had joked once upon a time.

They had matching wit, she realised fondly, they could verbally spar against each other for hours, never missing a beat. Fred and her, her and Fred.

Ron on the other hand was a deeply flawed boy that needed a lot of growing up to do. And that upper classmate from Beauxbatons had made her realise it. She refused to be his mother or his rehab but she was still his friend so she decided to be a friend to him. Not much had changed in their relationship from there on after but she tried to be as supportive as she could be, to try and help him overcome his insecurities but that was no small feat because he tended to lash out at the closest people to him. 

And to her bafflement when he started showing his inclination towards her in their 6th year she tried to let him down as easily as she could while running in the other direction, and happily throwing him into the path and the arms of Lavender. And making sure to tell him that she was happy for them both. She would’ve liked to give some relationship advice too but she herself had never really been in one let alone knew much of anything about them at that point in time. The thing with the sweet shy Viktor was short and fleeting and perhaps if they went to the same school or lived in the same country it would have developed into something more but fate had other plans.

The other thing that made her realise later on, how right she had been in keeping it a friendship and nothing more, was him being stuck in his old ways and prejudices, unable to move on from them. He hadn’t learnt yet that people could change and some perhaps deserved a second chance, people like Draco, a misguided child stuck in the midst of evil and constant danger with his and his family’s lives hanging in the balance. Who had still managed to find a little courage and defiance by not identifying them at the Manor when they were captured. And who looked so sick and guilt ridden, unable to look at her, when she was being tortured by his very aunt, no matter how deranged the woman was.

They had argued about this almost in the same way they had argued in their fourth year about Viktor. She shut him down quickly this time though and told him if he valued their friendship at all that he’d keep his prejudices to himself. Harry had agreed with her, to her surprise, which had been a bitter pill for Ron to swallow but he left the issue alone. And both her and Harry had spoken for Draco and his mother at their Wizengamot trials, sparing them a sentence in Azkaban.

Ron had been Harry’s first friend and best friend. Hermione had always felt like Ron’s friendship meant more to Harry than her own, which wasn’t true she understood that now but at the time she felt a little betrayed, left behind. In their fourth year when Ron and Harry reconciled and then basically ignored her for awhile there after, taking Ron’s side silently, not speaking out against him because he was afraid that his friend would up and leave again.

But something had changed.

When they were on the run and Ron abandoned them, despite Harry forgiving him quickly, he confided in her later that he never really could forget the betrayal. He told her then that he had realised that she had never and would never betray or abandon him like Ron did, that she was his family and he would do anything to repay her for all that she had done and sacrificed for him. His words had made her cry and poor Harry flailed when he saw her tears, which then made her laugh almost hysterically at his panicked expression and he looked at her as if she had finally lost her marbles. She couldn't love him more. 

Once the war was over Harry was the one to stand by Hermione like a rock she needed him to be, he went to Australia with her to get her parents and helped her deal with the fall out that came after and the decision that her parents made to stay in Australia. If not for him she did not know what she would have done.

Ron had tried to show his support in his own way too but she just couldn’t draw any comfort from him, however she did appreciate the sentiment, he was after all still her friend.

But when he spoke to her like that, accusing her of something ridiculous, putting her down, because he couldn't tamper down his own jealousy or insecurity even though she was meant to be one of his best friends, often made her wonder if his sometimes toxic friendship was worth it.

* * *

Fred having noticed fairy quickly that Hermione was gone stepped outside to find her.

He saw her standing with Ron and overheard what he said to her, he did not like the tone he was using nor his treatment of his Wendy since they’ve stepped through the threshold of this household. A dark look passed over his features and he did not hesitate to confront his alleged ‘brother’.

“Watch your tone.” His face was impassive but the dark undertone in his words did not go unnoticed. He was protective of her and anyone wanting to come between them would meet the same end. He had no relationship with this brother of his, he did not remember him nor had any true regard for him, he had not cared to know him either. He realised then why he had felt the way he did when he was first reintroduced to Ron. He wasn’t oblivious to the way Ron looked at his girl today. He was a threat.

He gently took her hand and looked at her, silently asking if she was ok to which she nodded with a slight hesitant smile. Then he tugged her away while throwing the boy behind them a threatening look that equated to a thousands words.

Ron was left dumbfounded where he stood, a hot flush of anger mixed with guilt painted across his face, his question from earlier had been answered silently by the couple that was now walking away from him.

* * *

He remembered how to fly on the broom, it was like second nature to him, as well as playing Quidditch with his siblings and Harry, and the familiarity of it had brought a sense of peace over him.

Three against three - Bill, Charlie and Ginny vs the Twins and Harry.

They laughed freely as they competed against each other while Hermione cheered from the sidelines along with Fleur, Molly, Arthur and Percy, who obstinately refused to partake in the hazardous sport. Ron excused himself, not feeling well, and Fred couldn’t care less.

Seeing her so carefree and clapping had seemed very familiar in that moment like he’d seen it countless times before, and he felt warmth spread in his chest from the sudden realisation, she must have come to their Quidditch games to cheer for them when they all were still at school. 

After the game and with everyone still in high spirits the group ventured back inside to get cold drinks to cool down, it felt like a hot summers day even though it was the beginning of Autumn.

As he walked towards Hermione, his Wendy, she beamed at him, her chocolate curls reflecting gold in the summer's light, her yellow summer dress swaying in the wind, and he fell for her right there and then just a little bit more.

A little while later he asked her to go for a ride with him, which did not go unheard. George wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively at them while Ginny hummed a ‘mhm’. Harry pulled the two away exasperatedly and Hermione had tried to suppress her laugh as she watched them. She could always rely on Harry to be her wingman.

She agreed, albeit reluctantly, on one condition.

“ _Only_ if you fly low. I’ve had enough of crazy flying to last me a _lifetime_.”

He complied with a teasing grin, letting her sit in front of him sideways due to her dress, with his arms coming around her protectively. He was almost a whole foot taller than her so his body nearly engulfed her own petite one. At this close proximity he could smell her gentle orange blossom perfume, inhaling it deeply, the scent brought a sense of calm like a comfort blanket being draped over him. 

* * *

She enjoyed the warmth emitting from his embrace, his protective arms around her keeping her close, making her feel giddy and safe.

She told him about how she had faced her fear of flying out of necessity. How Harry, Ron and her flew on brooms out of the room of requirements as the fiend fire burnt it down. How they flew on the back of a Ukrainian iron belly dragon out of Gringotts, which seemed to impress him immensely, making him laugh in astonishment. 

That particular breakout had decorated her a hero by all those working in the dragon reserve sanctuaries. She had met Charlie briefly at Bill’s wedding and had seen him at the battle of Hogwarts but they have never spoken properly before. It did not stop him from writing to her though, explaining and thanking her for freeing the poor beast, which they had been petitioning to free for years but unsuccessfully. She later received more letters of gratitude from the people he worked with. The gesture touched her greatly despite the whole ordeal being a spur of the moment, trying not to die but wanting to free the tortured beast at the same time.

They flew at a comfortable speed, across the golden marshlands, passing the shallow waters, chuckling at seeing their reflection in the ponds.

Coming to a slow halt in a clearing by a lake they disembarked the broom, deciding to go for a leisured walk around the lovely area.

They sometimes liked to discuss the novel she had read to him, the mysterious and dark aspects of the story, even using quotes directly from it at times. 

“When the author, J.M.Berrie, was initially writing the story, the Pan originally was planned to be a villain that stole little children in the night.” She spoke with amusement as she told him the factual tidbit.

He suddenly stopped walking, which made her halt too as they were holding hands, something that had become so natural that she hardly noticed when either of their hands would seek the other, gently slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Fred came to stand behind her before leaning forward, his lips coming close to her ear, his breath sending little pinpricks of awareness, making her heart flutter and her gut clench with warmth.

“Just like I’ve stolen my Wendy-bird tonight.” He murmured like it was a secret, his voice low like a caress. She felt her heartbeat pick up, her free hand clenching the skirt of her dress as she tried to control her breathing. 

She shyly dipped her head slightly and then turned to face him partly before finding courage to lift her chin to look up at him. His eyes seemed to glow from the soft light of the setting sun behind her, the gold and the green specks shining prevalently within his enticing hazel eyes. She saw something possessive within them then that made her breath catch before she felt his hands snake around her, his right going around her waist and ribcage, pulling her towards him gently but firmly while his left came up to cup her chin, lightly caressing, brushing her skin with his finger tips before angled her face and lowering his head to capture her parted lips. 

Her eyes fluttered close and she gave into the kiss, feeling herself almost go lax in his arms as he held her protectively, possessively. Her back firmly pressed to his chest, his warmth seeping through his shirt into the skin of her upper back that was exposed. She let her mind go blank and just feel his lips against her own, the way they slanted against each other just so, the softness and the careful caress that made something within her chest explode like fireworks igniting repeatedly, a heady feeling she found herself getting lost in and being consumed by. 

He pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss to then trail his soft lips along her smooth freckled cheek, gently moving her hair away and kissing a spot behind her ear before his lips traveled along the curve of her slender neck as if relishing in the softness of it, leaving a lingering kiss on the end of her exposed shoulder before pulling back. 

She felt like she was almost under a trance, her heart fluttering wildly within her ribcage, her eyes hooded as she felt his lips travel along her skin, leaving a trail of enticing burns which made her ache for so much more but knowing she wasn’t yet ready for and he seemed to notice her subtle tells, respecting her boundaries.

He smiled at her and just pulled her into another embrace, warm and comforting before pulling her down to sit on the dry land. She sat between his legs, her back flush with his chest as he held her close with his arms around her and his chin gently resting on her shoulder while they watched the sun begin to set and its brilliant vibrant colours being reflected by the lake like a mirror.

For the first time in years she had felt truly safe, comforted by his presence. When the end of the war came it was hard to shake the constant fear despite no longer being on the run or fighting for her life. Her parents far away. She knew she had Harry and Ginny but they were in a new blossoming relationship and she did not want to intrude so she kept it in, trying to be strong.

Katie Bell had reached out to her, an upper classmate who she wasn’t close to previously but having gone through the war together gave a sort of sense of kinship. Katie tried to organise little meetings, small group get-togethers, knowing that people needed it just as much as she herself did. And after a bit of coaxing Hermione managed to talk about her lingering fear and having others nod in understanding had made her feel a little better but it did not get rid of the fear itself.

George often came to the little meetings. She sometimes wondered with slight amusement if he knew of Katie’s feelings but highly doubted it.

“Come it’s getting late, I’ll take you back Wendy-bird.” He murmured to her, snapping her out of her reverie. His right hand then found hers and all she could do was follow him dumbly with heated cheeks, knowing she was falling for this boy pretty hard. 

They rode back in comfortable silence.

* * *

He may have stood aside for Ron before but now he wasn’t going to hold back. No more. He had his chance. 

She was his, his Wendy-bird and he’d be damned if he let anyone take her from him. He’ll court her like she ought to be courted, he’ll treat her right like she deserves to be treated and he will love her like he had always yearned to. 

* * *


	7. Memories

* * *

Fred had felt a little bereft when Hermione went away to Hogwarts to finish her studies, which meant he couldn’t see her on a daily basis like he was becoming so accustomed to but she had promised to Owl and visit every weekend, as she wasn’t confined to the grounds of the castle like the younger students were. She, much like her fellow 8th years were allowed to apparate from apparition points outside of the castle’s borders, as their return was a special circumstance made for those who had missed their final year exams, if they chose to.

Moving back in with George had been relatively easy, even though he had no memory of his twin he felt it, the deep ingrained affection and care he held for him, which even loosing his memories could never erase. They had a special bond that only identical twins could have and nothing could break it.

George would invite their mutual best friend, Lee Jordan, over sometimes and they would tell him stories and their escapades during school, working together at the shop and then the war. He never thought he’d ever laughed so much.

Despite dropping out of school, the twins weren’t simpletons. They had always been street smart, savvy with numbers and business concepts. Despite having very little money between them they have been able to produce products to show their creditors and investors, their first one being Harry of all people, the very first person to believe in their dream. 

They had backup plans on how to meet demand while still producing high quality goods and even plans for future expansion, their business plan was pretty flawless if they said so themselves. They wanted to build an _empire_.

Initially having their parents, especially their mother condemn their actions of dropping out of school for a foolish dream had put a slight damper on things but it did not slow them down any. Proving her wrong had been one of their biggest triumphs and they had earned her respect, making their parents proud of their accomplishments while they were still teenagers nevertheless.

Lee had joked that out of all of the Weasley brood they were the most successful and their mother would’ve been crazy not to acknowledge their success. 

The war and Fred’s injury did put their business expansion plans on hold for awhile, neither could George focus quite the same while anxiously awaiting for his twin to heal and to finally wake, but it was still in the cards for them in a not so distant future. The wizarding world of Britain was trying to heal itself once more and what better way to do it than with laughter? Something that their shop provided in spades.

* * *

Browsing in the twins shop Hermione had felt the same wonder she did the very first time she stepped through those brightly coloured doors. Their joke shop was like a beacon in the Diagon alley, attracting customers from all over.

She noticed the little pink bottles of love potions assorted on a beautifully decorated shelves and it made her think back to her sixth year. Thinking initially, in alarmed panic, that the Amortentia potion reminded her somewhat of Ron but she later deducted that it wasn’t the case because she wasn’t attracted to him. She was partial to those scents for different reasons but she now understood it was Fred all along. What attracted her to him had remained the same throughout the years and because Ron was his brother she failed to realise some of the similar scents they could have possibly shared.

She thought back to the Amortentia potion once more, trying to remember what she smelt.

Fresh cut grass - like the ones over the Quidditch pitch. Fred was a Quidditch played at that point for many years before Ron had even got onto the team. She had attended most of the games and always cheered for the Gryffindor’s team, Harry being the biggest reason for it as she did not care for the sport much. 

Parchment – she loved the smell of old books and fresh parchment. The twins had always been scribbling their never-ending ideas for new products on pieces of parchment almost as often as she wrote her long essays.

Toothpaste – something that she had always liked since her childhood when her parents taught her how to brush her teeth correctly. There was a brand widely used in the wizarding world, which the Weasley family always had in their bathroom. 

She had a crush on Fred since her first year that she tried to forget, in denial about it, never letting herself dwell on her feelings for him, and the thought made her smile in self detriment.

A fond memory of him came to mind then from her second year where he stood up for her against Malfoy along with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, when the Slitherin bully called her that deplorable word, but he and George were the first to jump in, fists flying and all. She was secretly pleased despite condemning the violence and her cheeks had treacherously burnt for days there after while her heart fluttered whenever she caught a glimpse of him.

Could have something come of it then if she just let herself fancy him? She doubted it. He was mischievous and popular and she was well…the opposite, a know it all book worm, he’d only glance in her direction to tease her, so she pushed her attraction for him deep down not realising when she smelt the Amortentia potion in her sixth year that her attraction towards him had always lingered in the corners of her subconscious. 

He had loved breaking rules sometimes just on principal of it and while at first she was aghast about the fact, once she began breaking rules for Harry she couldn’t stop. The adrenaline rush and the subconscious appeal made her understand him that much more. Discovering her own capability of mischief, sometimes even greater than that of Fred and George were capable of, made her realise that they were more alike than she had ever thought and she couldn’t help but be drown to him upon her realisation of that fact. 

Hermione set Snape’s robes on fire, had lied to other professors, stole from Snape’s ingredients cupboard to make Polyjuice potion (which was illegal mind you), blackmailed Rita Skeeter by keeping her in her beetle animagus form and holding her hostage in a glass jar as punishment, let the Centaurs take Umbridge hostage. And the list goes on!

Hermione was never a good girl even though she did a very good job at pretending to be one and perhaps at some point she even believed it too. Maybe it was also the reason why she was so good at getting away with so much. And the thought made her chuckle to herself.

* * *

Spotting his Wendy-bird in the shop had brought immense pleasure at seeing her admiring their products born of their hard work. He sneaked up from behind her and snaked his arms around her waist pulling her into an embrace, making her yelp.

“Fred, Merlin! Give a girl some warning!” She slapped his arm playfully, but he didn’t care, he was just so happy to see her after a long week apart.

He was dressed in his signature magenta work clothes and his chin length hair was swept back, a new look he was trialling, which she seemed to have noticed. A cheeky and affectionate smile appeared on her lips as she brought her hand up to lightly tug on his hair at the nape of his neck. 

”It suits you.” His answer was a sweet kiss, stealing her breath, holding her close. He pulled away reluctantly not wanting to get caught but not really caring even if he did.

“So what do you think?” he gestured around them, his left hand still holding her waist. 

“It’s incredible, like a wonderland of happiness and mischief.” she beamed at him and he couldn’t help but return it. 

“It is not in doing what you like, but in liking what you do that is the secret of happiness.” She said to him, quoting the book fondly.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself Granger.” George piped in from around the corner with a smug grin across his face.

They had dinner together with George in their apartment above the shop every Saturday evening. The easy banter and conversation flowed freely.

He hated parting from her in the evenings and eventually after a few weeks he convinced her to stay the night, not caring if he took the couch or the floor as long as she was close. She had shyly agreed. 

* * *

Hermione had this fear in her mind that if Fred regained his memories that somehow he would loose his feelings for her, that something would change between them. It was irrational but she couldn’t help it. A part of her wanted to keep her distance because of the fear so that if the fateful day did come she wouldn’t hurt as much as she could. However, no matter how much she was afraid of it she could never pull away from him, the mere thought had made her heart ache painfully like something was gripping it in a tight vice. 

Sharing a bed with him because she didn't want him sleeping on the floor, sleeping next to him was a little nerve wreaking at first but the cuddles and the closeness put her at ease, sleeping curled up against one another with his protective arms around her gave her a sense of peace, of belonging and of safety. She hadn’t slept so well in a long time.

However, it had also lead her to discover the nightmares that sometimes plagued Fred, him flinching awake in the middle of the night after seeing something in the darkest corners of his subconscious.

She wondered if he dreamt of the marshlands at night, if it brought anxiety to him, reminding him of the place he was a prisoner for months.

She sometimes heard him mumbling under his breath ‘its not real, its not real’ but when she asked him about it he hesitated, clamping up at first but with a little coaxing he would describe his dreams to her as she held him close, running her fingers through his amber locks in a soothing motion.

He described an explosion, a wall coming down and crushing him, unable to move or breathe as he begun suffocating.

She acutely knew then that it weren’t nightmares but broken memories of the ‘before’ he was seeing, the most prominent being the battle of Hogwarts when he was grievously hurt.

And then came days where he was plagued with terrible headaches. They checked him out at St Mungos but all they could say was that it was perhaps the mental walls trying to lift, otherwise he was in perfect health.

* * *

Then one night everything came back as if being hit by a bludger, the pain was indescribable, it woke him up and he was thrashing in his bed from the pure rawness of it. He was so loud that it woke George too, who came running in to see what happened.

He remembered then. He remembered a lot while some memories remained hazy, still eluding him. But he remembered a particular witch, his witch now, his lovely Hermione, his Wendy-bird. And with it also came the slight guilt towards his youngest brother but he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of his actions. He did not take her away from Ron, she chose _him_.

He had always thought her different to everyone else. Obstinately stubborn but always loyal to her friends, clever beyond her years with a sharp tongue and sharper wit. She had always been cute too, despite the crazy hair she had in her first year, which seemed to have been tamed more and more each year.

He can’t quite pin point the moment in time he fell for her because it was so gradual. He’d always liked to tease her since the first year, it was just too easy and her retaliations had never failed to amuse.

Perhaps he stared at her a bit longer than was strictly necessary at the Yule ball but that was besides the point…mostly…

Hearing about the trio’s adventures had always turned his head and never failed to impress, neither did her innovative ideas or skills - Dumbledore’s army, a strong duellist and second only to Harry, the gold coins to communicate and the list went on.

But seeing her small form lying on a bed in the hospital wing after the department of mysteries had been like a punch to the gut. Dolohov had hit her with a nasty hex that damaged her internal organs and despite knowing that eventually in a few weeks she would be ok it had still made his chest feel like it was concaving on itself to the point it was hard to take a full breath. He hid it well but George noticed, he knew him too well not to.

He was proud of her though, by Tonks account she had taken down two Death Eaters before Dolohov striked her and even then she carried on fighting when she must have been in so much pain. She was something fierce and he couldn’t help but admired her for it.

He loved her he knew that but having regained his memories only made him love her that much more.

* * *


	8. Two Worlds

* * *

The first time he saw her since regaining his memories felt like looking at her in a new light. All of his regained memories had also brought with them the cumulative emotions within them. 

She came over the following Saturday evening. George was out with Katie, Oliver and Lee so they had the flat to themselves. 

“I remember.”

She looked at him quizzically at first before the words truly sunk in and her bag came crashing down onto the floor with a heavy thud. The sudden look of fear and hope crossing her features made him cross the room purposefully in a few long strides and then he was kissing her. He thought his chest would burst from the overwhelming feelings he held for her, the deep affection he felt for her.

Only Merlin knew how much he loved this witch.

* * *

When he said those two words it had felt like the carpet had been swept from under her feet. Both dread and relief run through her and before she could even begin to over think he took her face between his hands and kissed her, kissed her like he was saying goodbye, like he might never see her again and kissed her in greeting like he really believed he wouldn’t. And she knew then that his feelings have not vanished like she irrationally feared they would, no, he was telling her what he couldn’t yet with words.

Her eyes strung from the burning tears that wanted to fall from relief, from love and from need. Then finally unable to keep them in they treacherously rolled down her cheeks, she gasped for breath as she clutched his shirt harder with her hands, almost shaking from the force of the overpowering emotions coursing through her, his burning lips consuming her completely.

They broke apart, breathing hard, his hands cradling her face brushed away her tears gently, his eyes searching.

“I love you.” She breathed, holding back a sob, her smile wobbling as she confessed.

“and I you.” Her breath hitched at hearing those words and before she could take another he kissed her again.

He lifted her up and her legs came round his hips instinctively before she leaned down and captured his lips with her own once more, he took them to his bedroom.

* * *

The first month sharing a bed was innocent, he gave her the reins, let her set the pace and after awhile she began giving him a glimpse of the passion that lay underneath her skin, her lips, her mind. It was slow building as any building of trust was, like anything that was worth growing over time and strengthening their bond. 

Their kisses became less innocent, their wondering hands more so. Every time she let him touch her he couldn’t hide the reverence he felt as his hands glided along her smooth supple skin, kissing every each of it, adoring her, her soft sighs of pleasure encouraging him further.

So when he regained his memories and she confessed her feelings he couldn’t hold back any more, he knew he’d stop at any sign of her hesitation but the way she kissed him back, the way her hands unbuttoned and then yanked his dress shirt down his arms, he knew she wanted him just as much he wanted her.

That night he truly became hers in mind, body and soul. He felt the electrical like charge of his magic hum under his skin, reacting to her own when their bare skin connected intimately, sleek from their mixing sweat as they moved together. Their magical compatibility, their emotional and passionate coupling affected their organic surroundings. The plant pots overflowed and the flowers bloomed before their time, which later, upon the realisation of what happened, made them laugh mirthfully. 

He was her first and he’d make damn sure he was her last, was his final thought before they fell asleep in each other’s arms whilst he held her protectively, his Hermione, his Wendy-bird.

* * *

Then shortly came the Christmas holidays and she did not think they could grow any closer. It felt so freeing to be able to tell him that she loved him whenever she wanted, write it at the end of each letter she had sent him and eventually confessing when she had first fell for him. To her bewilderment he replied in kind, perhaps not falling for her as young as she had for him but he secretly loved her for longer than she had allowed herself to, and it threw her. The revelation had made her fall for him that little more.

She sighed happily as her thoughts swayed in his direction yet again whilst she tried to write her Transfiguration essay. Never having believed that she’d ever act like one of those lovesick girls but here she was, sighing and daydreaming about him. And despite it she couldn’t repress a smile at the thought.

Hermione had been writing to her parents, the line of communication opening a few weeks prior after almost 5 month of total silence. She couldn’t have been more relieved nor surprised. When she came back from Australia with Harry she had felt that her betrayal had cut deeper than she had ever intended to but she understood. Not everyone could withstand the truth when you are told your memories have been wiped and you were sent to a different country against your will, no matter if it was for safety or not. Being told your whole life is a lie and a sham causes irrevocable damage to the trust between the parties. Such betrayal is unforgivable, and they said as much in the way they had left things, it all had seemed so final.

She had cried when she received the first letter from them.

She planned to go visit them for a week over the Christmas break, hoping to build a lasting bridge somehow.

Fred had been a little disappointed for not being able to spend their first Christmas together but she promised she’d make up for it and that perhaps next time they’d go together.

As an early Christmas present she gifted him muggle games for inspiration for new products for his and George’s shop, the twins were ecstatic, much to her glee.

Fred had given her a beautiful snow-white knitted scarf made of cashmere with a silver snowflake hanging on one end with a little bobble attached on a thick white string.

“To keep you warm when I’m not around.” He stated simply as he carefully wrapped it around her neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you too Wendy-bird.” And she kissed him sweetly then as they cuddled on the couch, under a warm blanket, watching muggle telly she had smuggled in from her old parents house.

* * *

When she got back from Australia she seemed happier, more content, it definitely showed in the bedroom, he chuckled to himself. But he couldn’t quell this feeling in his gut that clenched uncomfortably when she left and had remained long after she got back. He had this anxiety that somehow she would leave him.

When she planned to visit her parents during the spring break she became a little apprehensive closer to the date, acting oblivious when he asked her. He couldn’t pin point why but he knew he’d find out sooner or later.

* * *

He accompanied her to Australia on her next trip and it was slightly awkward at first but pleasant enough. He had met her parents previously at the platform 9 and 3/4 before boarding the Hogwarts train a couple of years in a row. They had seemed like decent people.

As he watched her interact and try to reconnect with her parents he felt uncertain. He wanted to keep her, not wanting to loose her to them but at the same time he could see the bonds they shared that only close family members could truly have. He loved his parents but he'd never been as close to them as Hermione was to her own. 

  
  
He was no seer but he could sense their worry, their want to pull her away from the Wizarding world and it’s dangers after all that she had confessed to them about the war previously.

But he could never allow that to happen.

He wasn’t sure if Hermione would let herself be guilt tripped in doing so but he wouldn’t leave it to chance. He had hopped that she wouldn’t leave him on her accord. 

He heard the conversation her mother was having with her, as they walked along the golden beach of the Gold coast, about her possibly considering going to a university, a muggle one, getting a muggle education alongside her wizarding one, Australia having great universities. He could see what they were trying to do, trying to pull their only daughter from a world they had now felt had stollen her from them. On some level he understood but they both couldn't have her. Their worlds still far too removed from one another, forever in conflict. 

  
  
That evening when they were packing as their portkey was scheduled for the early morning, he had never seen her look so torn all of a sudden and then it hit him like a punch to the gut. Her even considering the move had made him feel like his chest was concaving on itself from pressure, from the pain he felt in that moment, from the fear that she wanted to leave him. 

  
  
Why? Why did she allow him to grow close to her if she was only going to up and leave him in the end? 

  
  
“You…want to leave?” ‘me’ was left unsaid but the meaning was clear. The betrayal he was feeling must have showed on his face because she became very defensive, casting a Muffliato so that her parents wouldn’t overhear them.

“That is not my intention!” 

  
  
“But that is what you are considering in doing?”

  
  
“I don’t want to leave you.” She tried pleading with him.

  
  
“Then don’t.” he felt his fists clenching painfully by his sides as he tried to control his breathing.

  
  
“They are my parents, I don’t want to loose them!”

  
  
“If they truly love you then you won’t. It shouldn’t be conditioned on you moving away from all you have known for almost half your life, from something that is a major part of you.” He paused looking away, biting his cheek bitterly before he continued.

“You need to understand that they will _never_ truly understand the connection you have to magic and it’s world. Why must you pick one over the other? You’ve always seen them on holidays, you can carry on doing so?” 

“It isn’t enough…” he saw her tears begin to fall.

No. No he couldn’t loose her, not now, not ever. Something possessive twisted in his chest and his mind sought for logical arguments. He will make her see.

“What do you think will happen after all those years at a muggle university? Do you think they’ll be _happy_ for you to go back to the Wizarding world again? Think again. They will just find another way to keep you from it. It will not end well for neither party so make them understand now.” 

  
  
A cruel part of him almost wanted to tell her to forget about it all, to forget them. Like how the Pan said to his Wendy to forget about everything and stay with him.

_‘Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again.’_

Fred did not want to do the gallant thing and let her go, his mind reasoning that if you truly loved someone you’d never let them go.

He would not let Hermione relocate to Australia, to her parents, who decided to stay there as it had always been their dream to move there eventually, it was their choice. He would do anything to try to convince her to stay in Britain, with him, and just visit her parents when she wanted to, using an international portkey. 

She couldn’t have both, it was either them or him.

  
  
“They had made their choice and so have you. You have sacrificed for this world, you can’t abandon it now.”

  
  
“But they are my parents Fred! I can’t just abandon them again!”

  
  
“You have been disconnected from them from the moment you entered the wizarding world at 11. You could not write to them about the things you saw or did. You can’t disclose anything significant about the wizarding world to them due to risk of prosecution.” He took a deep breath, he had to make it more personal, to make her see.

  
  
“It doesn’t mean that your love for them will fade if things remain the way they are, but you are part of this world as long as magic flows through your veins, as long as magic is a part of you. What purpose will it serve for you to leave now and go to a muggle university just to please your parents? Will you actually use that degree? What if they demand you leave the wizarding world afterwards or altogether? What happened to your ambitions here? To change the wizarding laws to bring equality?”

  
  
“I...”

He left it at that, giving her much to think over.

_‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder… or forgetful.’_ a quote from the book that he did not want to test, refusing to let her go selfishly.

* * *

There was a stark difference between dating a boy and dating a man. She didn’t always want to be the one to lead, to be strong, to be the one to compromise. Having to spell everything out to him. She needed someone who she could rely on, who would encourage her to do better and morally support her. Someone who got her, understood her. She didn’t want to have to go to war every time they faced an issue. 

  
  
And Fred was all that she ever wanted and needed, more so than she had ever known. He was like the other piece to her puzzle and she felt complete with him by her side, her partner in crime who she could confide in.

  
  
She loved him more than words could say and it scared her. Scared her so much that it sometimes immobilised her. The mere thought that he could have died in the war tore her heart into pieces. Like now. Wanting to be closer to her parents but not wanting to loose him.

  
  
She knew he was right. She knew it but it still pained her. 

  
  
She knew she didn’t always have to pretend to be strong that she could let her guard down with him, to rely on him, to depend on him because he will always, always come through for her, that if she fell he would never fail to catch her within the safety net of his arms.

The first time she had returned from Australia with Harry by her side with a heart heavy and needing something to distract herself from what had happened she threw herself into research to try anything to ease the guilt hanging heavily in her heart and mind in regards to her parents.

  
  
And shortly after it became a need to help her childhood friend, her childhood crush, the first boy she had ever loved who then became her partner in crime when he woke. Who still loved her subconsciously even though he did not remember her.

It did not take her long to be unable to imagine her world without him. It was not a passing relationship, despite however short they have been together intimately or not, she felt a deep connection to him, this innate feeling that this was real and true, something she would forever regret loosing.

But her responsibility for and towards her parents tore at her. She did not know what to do.

* * *

_ *Authors Note* _

What would you do in such a situation? 

(I dunno, not very happy with this chapter and i feel like the Pan was talking more than Fred to be honest. Does that make sense? What do you think?)

P.S. Don't worry our darling boy will see the error of his ways and redeem himself ;D


	9. Resolve

* * *

It did not take long for his twin to pick up on something being wrong when he and Hermione got back. He let it be for a few days but Fred had felt his eyes following him at times. He appreciated George giving him space and reading into his mood not wanting to talk. No one understood him like George did, perhaps except his Wendy-bird.

Friday evening came round and as they closed the shop and settled in for the night George poured them a generous amount of firewhisky in a couple of tumblers. They haven’t done this in awhile and he was grateful, finally ready to talk he told George of what happened in Australia, his twin didn’t seem all that surprised, it made sense, what kind of parent would want their child to go back to such a world after what they lived and suffered through?

“What are you afraid of Fred?”

“That she will forget me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because distance makes the heart grow fonder or forgetful.”

He did not want to share her, he did not want to let her go but he saw the amount of pain she was in, he alone was not enough, his love was not enough and it cut him deeply.

Fred then came to a realisation that he would lose her either way if things went on the way they were. He would either be forced to let her go or find a way to bridge the gap between her and her parents. He wrecked his brain for days before an idea had sparked.

He contacted Percy and with his brothers help he managed to secure an international portkey that she could use at her personal disposal, the ministry granted it as a gesture of good faith and a gift for all her efforts in the war and defeating the dark lord. No such thing had been granted to any other regular wizard or witch. It was strictly for diplomats and even then when envoys were sent to other countries there had to be agreements in advance with enough paperwork to be fill a desk. Hermione wouldn’t have to notify the ministry in advance as a tracker was placed on the object. It gave her a lot more freedom to visit her parents when she chose to, or visit Britain if that’s what she decided in the end.

Pan was a selfish being and for a long time he was too but meeting their Wendy, loving her, had changed them.

* * *

The more she thought about it the less it made sense to her. Her goals her plans had all been interwoven in the wizarding world, she wanted to work in the ministry so she could make changes, to make it more diverse and fair.

She liked the muggle world, still went out in muggle London, still did muggle things but it did not equate to her wanting a career in the muggle world. She enjoyed the muggle world but it was not her future, it is neither her present nor her past. It’s a world in which she could seamlessly disappear, enjoy anonymity but she’d forever feel hollow without her magic. It is so deeply routed within her that it was all she knew. She couldn’t imagine having to pass exams to go to a muggle university, having to lie about her past and about who she was. That was it wasn’t it? In the muggle world she’d be living a lie because no one could know about her or what she went through but in the wizarding one she could be all she wanted to be.

This did not make her love the muggle world any less but it’s just that she felt she belonged in the wizarding one more, it has been so since childhood.

* * *

Fred planned to give Hermione the portkey the next time she visited. The anxiety did not lessen any and he was still very much afraid of what her decision would be, which in turn also made him irritable so he tried to stay in the back for the time being not wanting to interact with customers and give a bad impression.

While he was restocking he spotted a familiar face speaking to his twin.

Angeline Johnson.

Angelina was a good friend, not his closest friend but a friend nevertheless, they were in the Gryffindor’s Quidditch team together after all.

His first mistake was showing off in front of his little brother and asking her out to the Yule ball in an attempt to give Ron a push to ask Hermione, while in denial about the whole thing.

He didn’t think much of it, thinking Angelina knew that he asked her to go as friends much like George did with Katie earlier but something must have changed the way she looked at him. They had fun as a group and she looked pretty but it wasn’t her who he was paying attention to nor watching most of the evening, which didn’t impress her very much, making her storm off at one point. He was a little oblivious at the time and just ignored it, thinking it had to do something with weird girl’s mood swings.

A little while later, after the ball, she asked him out. Being a typical teenage boy he didn’t think much of it, peer pressure not helping, so he accepted. Neither did he realise how the dynamic in the group might change so he shrugged his shoulders, thinking she was rather fit, popular and quite a few of the blokes in their year seemed to fancy her so why not give it a go?

It didn’t last very long because quite quickly it became apparent that they were very different people with different characters with only Quidditch as their main shared factor. They could have a laugh yes but ultimately they wanted different things. She also wanted more from him than he was willing to give. His heart was just not in it.

It then came out that his best friend Lee had feelings for the girl, which he never thought to have been serious, only harmless flirting that always seemed to irritate Angelina. Lee had never said or admitted to anything but he saw how his apparent sham of a relationship was affecting Lee, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and he seemed quieter than normal, his laugh a little hollow. It later lead to a confrontation where he pushed and pushed and pushed until Lee almost exploded, confessing, nearly shouting at him that he liked her first and what kind of friend does that to another? It threw him. He felt incredibly guilty towards him and angry too for never telling him, angry at himself for failing to notice how Lee truly felt. It ended up being the final nail in the coffin and so he put a stop to it as nicely as he could but she did not take the break up very well.

Then after the summer holidays when they began their 7th year the Malfoy incident happened and both the twins and Harry wanted to teach the little prick a lesson. The fight with Malfoy resulted in them being kicked off the team by Umbridge, which angered Angelina more personally than it should have, the bitterness she kept from the failed relationship only added to it. Perhaps it was her ego that came into play because she’d never had anyone break up with her, it was always the other way round, she didn’t lack in suitors but the one that rejected her seemed to affect her the most. People sometimes wanted what they couldn’t have.

She had never been so obsessed with Quidditch as Oliver Wood had been back in the day but when she made captain in their final year she had changed. She seemed to have taken it as a personal vendetta when the twins didn’t obey her every command, taking it out on Harry and Ron too when he joined the team. She wasn’t overly kind to Ron and neither was she impressed with his skills, not afraid to voice her displeasure to him and Harry. Angelina was a hard-working captain yes but she did not take losing well, nor was she a graceful looser either and it translated into other aspects of her life.

The three of them being kicked off the team seemed to have been the ultimate betrayal. The twins did feel somewhat guilty for letting the team down but some things were more important than a game.

After they dropped out of Hogwarts he didn’t keep in touch with her, things having got too awkward, he felt it was best left alone.

He briefly saw her at the battle of Hogwarts with Alicia and Katie but they were all too busy fighting.

So years later when Fred saw Angelina try to flirt with his oblivious twin, and having learnt that she was trying to get closer to him during the time when George was emotionally vulnerable and confused, whilst he himself was in a coma, made something very ugly and cruel rear its head, and something very protective of his twin show.

George had always followed his lead. That was a trait of theirs, Fred was the more dominant of the twins who would lead and George would follow suit, without him George was adrift, he had told him as much, and perhaps if the roles were reversed he’d be left in much the same situation. The mere thought sickened him, he didn’t know how he’d live without George, his best friend, his brother, his twin. 

“Really Angie? Couldn’t have one twin so you trying to hit on the other? Really got no shame do you?” he said it playfully, with a mocking grin on his face but cold and unimpressed eyes. People should have boundaries and she was crossing one of them. Real friends or decent people didn’t date one brother and then moved onto another, no matter the excuse. He wasn’t going to let her lead his twin astray.

The only thing she could do was flap her lips like a flabbergasted fish, all colour draining from her face, stuttering an excuse and departing with her tail between her legs. Perhaps she herself had not realised what she was doing but it did not matter to him. ‘ _Good riddance’_ he thought while George looked between them a bit confused.

“What was that about?” asked George a little perplexed.

“I don’t like people like her.” was his simple reply.

And that was the end of it. She never showed her face around these parts of town ever again.

* * *

When she initially approached him, he thought it was as a school friend wanting to comfort him, but when her behaviour started to change George started to feel very awkward and very confused, however, as soon as Fred woke he took a full step back.

Angelina’s friendship did not matter to George as much as his twin did so he left the issue alone. You just _do not_ date your brother’s ex’s if you are in the right state of mind.

Things have changed, they themselves have changed throughout the years and sometimes it happens, friends drift apart, it was part of growing up. 

Unlike the thing with the sweet little Katie from the year bellow at school, one of the three chasers in their old Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. George had never looked at her as more than a friend but after the battle of Hogwarts things had began to gradually change.

They were both not only mentally but also physically scarred by the war. He had lost an ear and the hearing in it during a mission, and a cursed object had scarred her hand rendering her unable to grip things quite the same after a failed assassination attempt forced upon her with an Imperius curse. She was sweet and hopeful despite all that she had suffered through, it had attracted him to her, wanting to heal in the same way she had.

* * *


End file.
